


Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)

by SveaShan



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood Friends, M/M, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, No age difference, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SveaShan/pseuds/SveaShan
Summary: John and Santino start out as childhood friends but life doesn't really work in their favor.





	Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [santino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/santino/gifts).



> This is for Mars. Thank you for really getting me into this pairing. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title comes from the song of the same name by Nancy Sinatra, even though the Dua Lipa version was what really inspired me to write this. You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXHeJPrAKFw).

The radio in the kitchen was playing some ballad that sounded too loud and too slow for mainstream audiences, or at least it sounded like that to John’s ears. He couldn’t really care less about the music though, for his gaze kept flickering to the front door nervously. Minute after minute ticked by without anything happening and he started shifting and fidgeting with one of the cushions on the couch. 

“John, let it be. You know that they tend to be late,” his mother said and sighed when she noticed John had started biting his lower lip. 

“I know. But why?”

He didn’t even know why he felt so on edge. Perhaps it was because the last time his family and the D’Antonios had gotten together like this had been weeks ago, and Santino had promised him then that he would bring two shiny new water pistols the next time. Yes, that seemed plausible.

Another sigh from his mother.

“Mr. D’Antonio is always very busy at work, remember? Meaning that your dad is always very busy, too. That’s what happens when you work so closely together.”

Of course John knew this, but that didn’t mean that he needed to accept or tolerate it. He had, without his mother knowing, started to investigate just in what way his dad was “being busy”. If it was just a business matter he would know more details, wouldn’t he? But then again, his parents had to think that he would be bored by work stuff. He had to admit they were right, to some extent. But he was curious.

Now, he had decided, he had a right to know. Being ten years old meant that you could swallow whatever truth your parents might be hiding from you, he was sure of it. 

Probably the worst part of all of this was that not even Santino would say a word about it, and he _had_ to know something. But the more John tried to get a clue out of his friend the more nonsense Santino told him. The last time he had brought it up Santino had leant forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Father is actually a long lost Italian prince, and your dad is a famous dragon slayer. They have to travel together at all times because you can never know when a dragon is gonna show up!”

John had laughed this answer off but hadn’t been able to get rid of that tiny bit of annoyance completely. 

Another minute passed, then another. Finally, after what felt like a small eternity there was movement in front of the house and John could hear car doors being slammed shut. He jumped up from his place in the sitting room when he made out three shadows through the glass of the door but he tried his best to keep a straight face when it opened.

His mother kissed Mr. D’Antonio on the cheek before turning to her husband while John grinned at Santino, who, to John’s great relief, had come along without his sister Gianna. The older girl still managed to send chills down John’s spine every time she shot him one of her stares and even though his friend had told him a thousand times before that this was just her nature and she didn’t mean to do anyone harm, John sometimes was just plain scared of Gianna.

Santino had his arms folded behind his back and was flashing John a knowing smile.

“Father, can we go outside now?”

Mr. D’Antonio looked at John’s parents for a second before saying something to his son in Italian. Santino nodded impatiently and then motioned for John to follow him to the back of the house and into the garden.

“What did he say to you?”

Santino faked an annoyed huff of air. “He said to look out for evil gnomes in your backyard, what else?”

John tried to nudge him with his elbow but Santino ducked away fast enough and entered the garden laughing at him. Then, once John had closed the door to shut the adults out completely Santino pulled the promised water pistols out from behind his back like a real thug and threw one over to John. They were already filled and Santino called, “Catch me if you can!” and fired his first shot, then ran towards the group of trees behind them.

 

They were lying on the grass afterwards, both soaking wet and covered in dirt, looking up at the darkening sky, and slowly started catching their breath.

It was only then that John noticed something.

“Why isn’t there any guard with us out here?”

Santino continued staring up but John could still see the look on his face. It was the same one he always wore when he was coming up with another story about their fathers’ work. 

“They are all sick and had to stay at home.”

John didn’t want to press the matter but he wanted Santino to lie to him like this even less.

“Santino, I saw at least three when you arrived here. I’m not stupid you know.”

He still wouldn’t look at him, and his next words were mumbled so fast John almost didn’t make them out.

“I thought with you out here it would be enough.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, forget it,” Santino murmured and turned onto his side so that his back was facing John.

He blinked and was suddenly glad Santino couldn’t see him, because he would just have laughed at him again if he had seen the goofy smile that had started spreading on John’s face.

 

Once they had finished dinner and their parents had moved into the living room for drinks and more boring talks about business John and Santino went up to John’s room to work on their poker skills. Mr. D’Antonio didn’t really approve this but Santino always managed to convince him that it was just for fun and that there was no money involved at all. That was even a little true, because they never wagered with coin but with VHS tapes, comic books and music cassettes instead. 

Today however Santino flung himself onto John’s bed and didn’t look in the mood for card games at all.

John took a seat at his desk and started playing with one of the pens scattered on it.

“You alright?”

Santio didn’t reply at first, just kept staring at the ceiling as he had at the sky outside.

“How’s the dog business going?”

John knew the other boy was avoiding the topic of himself but instead of arguing he just went with it.

“Could be better. Mom is still firmly against getting one and dad, well. He’s hardly at home anyway so he wouldn’t really care, would he?”

He knew he was sounding more bitter than he had intended and judging by Santino tensing slightly on his bed he had sensed it as well.

“I’m sorry that we’re keeping him away from you like that,” he said after a long pause.

“Santino, what are you talking about? That’s not your fault.”

“But what if it is? John, you must know by now what your dad really does for my family.”

John shifted in his chair. He didn’t like where their conversation was going. He didn’t like the tone in which Santino was talking either, that soft yet at the same time high-pitched voice that sounded too close to tears than John ever wanted to hear it.

When he didn’t answer fast enough Santino sat up straight and shot an angry look at him.

“How can you be so oblivious John? Your dad isn’t a businessman, he’s our bodyguard! He’s the best we have, and father only insists on the best because of me! If I hadn’t been born your dad wouldn’t have to be away all the time.”  
There it was. The truth John had been dying to discover was finally laid out for him. He had suspected it had to be something along the lines of this, but now he wished he had never found out about it at all. Not this way at least.

He didn’t know what was appropriate to say to Santino in a situation like this.

“You know that’s not true. Think about your sister. If it wasn’t you dad was looking after it would be her, right?”

“Gianna has her own people around her all the time. Can’t you just let this go now? I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

John now stared at him in disbelief and felt anger starting to bubble in his stomach.

“You’re the one who started this! I’m just trying to get this dumb stuff out of your head!”

“Dumb?” Santino’s voice had gotten dangerously low again. 

Shit.

“That’s now how I meant it. Santino -”

But Santino had already gotten up and was making his way towards the door. 

“I’m going to see what father is up to.”

 

John didn’t even try to say anything to make him stay. He felt absolutely useless staring at the door after Santino had pulled it closed behind him. The water pistols were still lying on the floor between the desk and the bed where they had dropped them. How much damage could be done if he just threw them out the window? In the end he opted for stuffing them into an old shoe box in one of the corners of his wardrobe. He would forget about them soon enough, he was sure of it.

 

The radio in the car was playing this year’s latest pop hits the day John’s father died. Everything had been normal, just an ordinary morning in the Wick household until John and his mother had come back from the grocery store to find a car waiting for them in front of the house.

John had to wait in the car, a thing that was more unfair than anything he had ever experienced in his fifteen years of life. But when he saw that his mother had started crying and was being led into their house by one of the men from the car John immediately forgot to feel annoyed. He jumped out of the car and ran inside.

 

On the day of the funeral John didn’t want to get up and get dressed at all. His mother kept knocking at his door but eventually gave up to leave him be. John knew he was being irrational but who could blame him? When he did get up and stood in front of his open wardrobe his eye was caught by a battered shoe box in the back, half hidden behind one of his coats. He pulled out his black suit and slammed the door shut.

 

John sat in the front row of the church next to his mother and his dad’s closest friends. The D’Antonio family was sitting in the pew on the other side of the aisle, Gianna and Santino on either side of their father. Over the last few years John and Santino had talked, of course, but never again like before the day of revelations as John sometimes called it. 

Seeing Santino just a few feet away from him, his cool eyes staring at the space above the coffin made John’s thoughts run riot. Did he want pity from him or his family? Were they to blame for what had happened? It would be easy to just make them responsible instead of the nameless and faceless people who had actually killed his father. Killed his father. It was the first time he had formed this sentence in his mind and he felt as if he was going to pass out. The air in the room was suddenly too hot and there were too many people around him. He got up and walked out of the church. Nobody tried to stop him. 

Once he was outside he found a tree to lean against that was wide enough to hide him from anyone coming out to look for him. He lit a cigarette with shaking hands and took a long drag. Being out here would make things easier, he just needed to be alone for a while. But not even two minutes had passed until he heard the gravel under the feet of someone walking towards his hiding place. Their steps were then muffled by the grass and finally stopped.

“John?”

His head shot up. Maybe if he didn’t answer Santino would think he wasn’t here and would just leave again. Then he remembered the cigarette smoke.

He didn’t look him in the eyes when Santino had rounded the tree and now stood before him, putting a distance between them by folding his arms in front of his chest.

“What is it?” John tried to sound indifferent but he felt his voice quivering. He took another drag from the cigarette.

“Do you wanna talk?”

“About what?”

Santino scowled at him but was quick to compose himself again. “You know what.”

It was then that John found his gaze and took in Santino’s face for the first time in over a year. He still had the same arrogant look in his eyes and the same dark curls styled to perfection, one small wave of hair falling onto his forehead. He shifted under John’s stare, uncrossed his arms and ran a hand over his mouth. Then he let his arms fall to his sides.

“John, you know that your father,” he started, then cleared his throat. “Your father died bravely. They told you that, right?”

He tried to say something but the words died halfway through the process. The only thing that came out was a sound that could be both a sob and a cry. Santino flinched but took a step forward.

“You have every right to be angry with me or my father. We probably deserve it. John are you listening to me?”

“Shut up Santino. Don’t make this about you.”

Another step forward. John could now either reach for him or punch him in the face. But it was Santino who made the choice for him. He took the cigarette from John’s trembling fingers and took a drag of it himself before he walked back to the gravel path and stomped it out with the heel of his shoe.

John finally let the tears fall once he was back in front of him, still close enough for John to reach out to. How did Santino manage to look so composed in this situation? 

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“This isn’t about me. Hey, I want you to know something. Are you listening to me?”

John shrugged his shoulders and Santino just kept talking. He seemed unable to stop once he had opened his mouth.

“Okay. I know I sound like an ass but you can talk to me any time. You know how to reach me. Okay, and also, I want you to know that I always considered you a friend, even over the last few years. I was bad at showing it but I never hated you or anything.” He paused to inhale deeply and continued with his voice growing smaller with every word.

“I hate what we have become. I hate that all of this happened and I hate myself for not really keeping in touch with you after that day at your place.”

It took him a while to find his voice but eventually John said, “Don’t say that.”

“What? Tell me what you want to hear then.”

He sounded so unlike himself that John had to look at him again to make sure it was still Santino standing there in front of him. 

“I don’t know. Not that. I don’t know,” he repeated and drew a shaky breath.

Santino shifted his weight from one leg to the other and then reached out towards John slowly, so slowly, until his fingers found John’s and closed around them. 

“Okay. Okay, not that then.” He squeezed John’s hand and went on. “Truth be told, I miss you. I miss being around you and chasing you around the garden and just talking to you. I mean it.”

John didn’t know what to say. How many times had he imagined a situation like this back when they were younger? He would have done anything to be able to take his friend’s hand and not let go until he had to leave again. The gesture now coming from Santino made him wonder if he just could have done it and not be rejected. This made him laugh despite himself, but it was a humorless sound. His father was just about to be buried and here he was holding hands with his best friend and lost chance. 

“John?” His voice was so soft that John felt his heart might break if he said another word.

Maybe not lost entirely.

“I miss you too. I missed you even though I was so angry at you. I don’t even remember why we stopped being friends.”

“Me neither. Your number and address are still the same, right?”

He nodded and started wiping away the tears with his free hand.

“Good. Good. You ready to go back inside?”

John didn’t feel ready yet but he let Santino pull him towards the building anyway. They didn’t let go of each other until they’d entered the church and sat down next to their families, and the next time John looked over to Santino his eyes were warm and he was returning his gaze.

 

The radio in his room was playing classical music, Bach to be precise, when Santino heard the doorbell ring on the morning of his sixteenth birthday. A few minutes later someone from his staff - he had stopped calling them babysitters years ago - knocked on his door and Santino called for them to come in.

“Another package has arrived.”

He handed it to him and left again when Santino didn’t ask for anything else.

The handwriting was messy but instantly recognizable, and he started tearing the package open with too fast and too clumsy hands.

Inside he found a note and a small, flat box. He flipped the note open.

_Santino,_

_I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten your birthday because I didn’t call first thing in the morning, but I didn’t want to wake you. Just kidding, our telephone broke down yesterday and Mom and I need to go into town to get it fixed soon. You’ll be the first one I’ll call._

_Let’s meet later tonight if you have time, I’ll come round at 8. Hope you like your gift._

_See you soon._

_John_

Santino opened the smaller box and a smile broke out over his face. He seized the bright green water pistol up and held it as if it could break apart any moment. Then he made his way down the stairs to make sure he was free at eight. Back his room he changed the radio station until he found a more upbeat song. The small pistol was still lying on his bed and he chose to put it onto his bookshelf for everyone to see, John’s note right next to it. It had probably spent too much time in a box already. No need to hide it anymore now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading everyone! This was my first time writing about these two even though I've been shipping them for months now. I feel like I could write a sequel to this, although it would probably take a while because of uni. Let me know if you'd be interested, and thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Oh and the title is maybe less fitting for this story than I originally thought but I like it so I'm keeping it.
> 
>  
> 
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/SveaShan)  
> [My tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kitkataddicted)


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